


The Giggles

by the_painless_moustache



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Star Stiles Stilinski, Porn Watching, Rimming, Sex Toys, accidental discovery of porn channel?, except not really he just records himself doing thangs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek accidentally discovers that Stiles does solo amateur porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Giggles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krysylyn86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krysylyn86/gifts).



> OOFTA okay so I tried to tag everything but I don't think I succeeded so if I have typos or missing tags PLEEEEAASE let me know  
> Also a huge thank you to Krysylyn who always seems to have the best prompts

 Due to Derek's own insecurities and past relationships, he relies more on porn than actual partners, and his porn preferences tend to lean towards solo stuff. He doesn't watch super often—okay, so it's often enough—but when he does he tends to stick to short and simple. And he's happy this way. _Seriously_.

 It's an accident at first. Derek has a type, he's not ashamed of that, and he's not ashamed to admit his type might lean towards brown hair and eyes and pale, freckled skin. Of course, he's not about to come out and say that to any certain brown haired, brown eyed, pale, freckled people in his life. At least, he's not planning on it. But then there's the video.

 It's a little over six minutes, which is a pretty average length for him. The thumbnail is grainy, a webcam shot of thin, long fingers wrapped around a deeply flushed and wet cock, with dark brown hair curling at the base and moles dotting his thighs. Derek's already interested—clearly, or he wouldn't be hunting for porn—but this makes his chest go warm. So he pushes his shorts down and starts the video.

 It opens with a click, a shot of the guy's stomach as he leans over to hit record on his laptop. When he leans back, Derek can see he's on a bed in sweatpants. The walls are white, like he's maybe in a dorm. Derek hums when the sweatpants get shirked. He's not hard yet, just thickening. He leans back and starts leisurely jacking himself off, his free hand petting the hair trailing down from his belly button. Derek follows his lead.

 By minute three both Derek and the guy on the computer are panting. Derek's had to actively hold off orgasm twice now. He wants to come when he does, and this guy is really into teasing himself. It makes it extremely difficult and more than a little hot.

 "Ah, fuck..." the guy on screen whines, hips jerking. Derek growls. The guy hasn't said a single word the entire video. Hearing his voice so high and needy hits a very specific set of buttons in him. " _Fuck, fuck_..."

 "Yeah," Derek growls at the screen in agreement.

 Suddenly he lets go, props himself up on the bed and presents his dick to the camera. It's dripping, red and strained and Derek wants to get his mouth on it. There's a few seconds of him just showing himself off before he climbs up on his knees, still in profile but now arching his back and presenting his ass to what Derek assumes is thin air.

 He wraps his hand back around himself, picks up where he left off. The next three minutes sees him falling apart. By the time he comes, his shoulders are pressed up against the mattress, noises and words muffled. Derek comes not even a second after he does, bucking his laptop off his thighs in the process. He and the guy on screen lay in silence, and then Derek hears him laugh. That's what gets his attention.

 He knows that laugh.

 Derek whips his head to look at the screen, which is laying sideway on the bed now. The video has flicked off, but it's easy for Derek to rewind it a few seconds. The guy laughs again, and then his face comes into view as he reaches to turn the camera off.

 It's Stiles.

 Derek scrambles back from his laptop, gets his legs tangled and rolls backwards off the bed. He stands up, shorts pooling around his ankles and looks at the even bigger mess he's made of himself. Then he looks at the screen, which has a lewd add playing over the black end of the video. Of _Stiles'_ video.

 He takes a burning hot shower, and then turns it freezing cold, and then back to hot again. By the time he gets out, the water is cold again because he's used all the hot water. His laptop screen is dark, but it hasn't moved from its location on his bed. He stares at it, like it might turn back on and mock him, but it doesn't. He puts on a new pair of shorts before picking it up. Touching the mouse pad turns the screen on. Hitting Escape backs him out of full-screen. He rereads the title of the video.

  _First Time Recorder – Solo_

 He takes a deep breath and looks at the user name.

  _PrettyNPale_

 He clicks.

 The channel isn't super active, but it's got more than one video. They're all Stiles. Some are solo, some aren't. There's probably twenty in total, all uploaded in the last two years, which means Stiles has been doing this since he was a sophomore in college.

 The latest one has a thumbnail that looks like someone sliding their dick over Stiles' ass.

 He exits the page right away and vows to forget about it.

 He doesn't, of course. He tosses and turns the first night, spends the whole next day avoiding his laptop, and then cancels plans to go to Scott's apartment for pizza and games because he can't imagine seeing Stiles after this.

 That night he goes back and looks through the page. He finds another solo and dejectedly clicks. This time it opens with Stiles showing off a Fleshlight. He's in a pair of Spider-man boxers, which makes Derek roll his eyes. Then he gets up on his knees and wriggles out of them. He's already hard this time, though not dripping yet. Derek automatically slips his hand down his own boxers.

 "I want you to imagine this is you, okay?" Stiles whispers awkwardly. "I want you to—to picture me fucking you. I want to. I would much rather have you than this."

 Derek nearly passes out. He shoves the laptop to the side and pulls completely out of his shorts, throwing them somewhere onto his floor. He awkwardly grabs for his lube while Stiles eases himself into his toy. Derek skips the first finger and goes straight for the second, shuddering a moan just as Stiles bottoms out in his toy.

 Derek flips onto his stomach, neck craning to keep an eye on Stiles' hips. They ease in and out of the toy, his hand completely still. He clearly wants to be the kind of guy who does most of the work, has most of the control.

 Derek wants Stiles to use him.

 "So good..." Stiles sighs happily, the arm propping him up shaking and straining. Derek can see his tendons and muscles, and he wants to bite into them. Wants to feel Stiles collapse on top of him. He twists his fingers to find his prostate and thrust against it. He ruts against the mattress, just slightly, but for the most part he tries to stay still like Stiles' hand. Like he wants.

 Stiles gives a particularly hard thrust on screen and hisses, fingers curling into his sheets. "Oh, _fuck_..."

 "C'mon..." Derek begs the screen desperately, trying to slip a third finger inside himself. "Please..."

 Stiles' thrusts start getting irregular, firmer. His bed creaks and one knee lifts off the mattress to get more leverage. Derek desperately pushes his third finger it and hits his prostate, milking it for all he's worth.

 Derek comes first this time, smearing all over his sheets and stomach. He lays there, panting as he watches Stiles push himself for another thirty or so seconds before comes with a gut-wrenching moan, doubling over the toy.

 Stiles rolls onto his side and huffs that breathless laugh from before, the one that had caught Derek's attention the first time. Derek can't help but smirk at it. Stiles reaches to the laptop and ends the stream without any preamble.

 Derek lays facedown into his pillow.

***

 Stiles doesn't laugh in the videos with other people. Derek has spent far too much of his porn time on Stiles page—pretty much all of it, if he's being honest—and so he'd burned through the solo ones more than once and admitted to himself he's going to a special place in hell. So he'd moved onto the last three untouched ones. The ones that has Stiles with someone else.

 Two are men and the third is a girl with a floral tattoo on her hip that Stiles spends a lot of time on, whispering about it and biting it. Derek wonders whether or not Stiles would spend the same about of time on his own tattoo before remembering he's not supposed to be thinking about that sort of stuff.

 But he watches the videos and he notices. He notices that Stiles is not nearly as loud, not nearly as animated. And he doesn't laugh. He comes with a shuddering sigh and he hums some before turning the camera off, but he doesn't laugh and Derek really tries not to read into it but on the nights when he doesn't watch a video and he still somehow ends up picturing Stiles is in mind, he always thinks he'd make him laugh.

 He knows he can't hide forever, but he tries. He comes up with every excuse he can think of. He pretends to be sick for a week, and then has to stop because they start getting really concerned. He keeps himself busy with work, he even "loses" his phone for awhile. But by three weeks he's running out of excuses to not see his friends, and honestly? He kind of misses them.

 So he agrees to go out.

 He feels pretty good when he walks into the bar. He's gone a few days without thinking about Stiles in any sort of sexual way, so he thinks maybe he's getting over the novelty of it. He likes Stiles, but he's resigned himself to never having him a long time ago. He can do this.

 He feels sick when he sees Stiles sitting under the arm of another guy.

 The guy has a visible tattoo inside his bicep, something that might be a dragon or a snake, and Derek immediately hates him.

 His name is Nate, and he doesn't say much. Stiles talks a lot about his nipple ring which brings a knowing smirk to his face and makes Derek finish whatever drink is in front of him. Scott doesn't seem to like him much—he asks him about animals and Nate says he's not really a pet kind of guy and Scott immediately shuts down—but Stiles sits on his lap the whole time.

 Derek gets impressively drunk, which is the only reason that when he stumbles into the bathroom and sees Nate and Stiles grappling at each other and trying to fall into one of the stalls that instead of turning right back around he points and says "Did you know he laughs after sex?"

 Both of them freeze. Nate looks between them and then points to himself. "Um, are you...are you talking to me?"

 "Yeah, Stiles. He laughs. But only if the sex is good. So if you didn't know that..." Derek snorts and falls back against a wall. "Well."

 "What the fuck are you talking about?"

 Derek turns his eyes to Stiles. He's red, angry and embarrassed and shaking. "The videos." Derek says simply.

 Stiles recoils from Nate, who frowns. "Videos?"

 "Shut up. _Shut up_." Stiles snaps. "How the hell...where did you—Never mind. _Never mind_."

 Derek's slap back to sobriety is Stiles slamming the bathroom door behind him. Suddenly everything Derek's just said washes over him in heavy, thick waves. "Oh, shit." he breathes.

 "Videos?" Nate asks again, sounding a little more angry this time.

 "I shouldn't have—" Derek starts, shaking his head. Then he just turns around. He goes back to the table, but Stiles isn't there. Derek asks, but no one seems to know where he went. Scott mentions he showed up with Nate, so he couldn't have gone far, but Derek isn't so sure.

 He leaves the bar and checks the alleys and then just starts walking towards Stiles apartment. It's miles away, but Stiles is determined and surprisingly agile. He's about to round one of the corners he has to take when he slams into Stiles. Stiles immediately pulls away and tries to skirt around him. "Stiles, wait."

 "No."

 "Stiles, I'm sorry."

 "How much of a dick do you have to be?" Stiles snaps, shoving at him again. "First to find those and then—and then _tell everyone_."

 "I didn't tell everyone. I messed up, I didn't mean to tell Nate, I'm _sorry_."

 "Fuck you."

 "Stiles, _please_. I want to explain!"

 "Explain _what?_ That you've been fucking—I mean, _Jesus_ , Derek."

 "Stiles," Derek grabs his arms and centers him in front of him. "I didn't know they were yours at first, and I wasn't—I wasn't going to say anything, _ever_. I mean, I didn't want _you_ to know about it, for sure."

 "So you were just going to mock me behind my back? What? _What_ were you trying to accomplish by watching them?!"

 Derek sighs, rolling his eyes. "What most people watching it were trying to accomplish, Stiles." he mutters.

 Stiles stares at him for a second before shaking him off. "No. _No_. I refuse to believe that. You've known me for fucking years, Derek. You don't just up and decide to be attracted to me one day because I do solo amateur porn."

 "Oh my god, Stiles." Derek removes his hands and puts them over his face. "I think you're attractive, I've _always_ thought you were attractive."

 "Then why haven't you _said_ anything?" Stiles demands.

 "What would I say, Stiles? When would I have said it?"

 "Whenever! I don't know!"

 They both sigh and Stiles rubs his eyes. "Look, I think—I think we're both a little too drunk for this. Let's just...put it on the back burner, okay?"

 Derek can't help the lead feeling in his stomach. Somehow, he thought having it out there would make everything work out, either one way or another. He hadn't counted on more waiting. But he nods anyway. Stiles nods back and then passes him to go back to the bar. Derek just calls for a cab.

***

 Derek wakes up to someone knocking on his door. His head is killing him, his mouth is dry, and there's a certain level of despair in him that he chooses not to look at. He considers ignoring whoever's on the other side, but they keep knocking, so he gets up and stumbles to the door, still in the jeans from last night.

 Stiles is on the other side, looking way more put together than Derek does. He looks him up and down and raises an eyebrow. "It's almost three, man."

 "I don't drink." Derek reminds him gruffly.

 Stiles nods. "Well, uh...I can come back, I guess. I thought you would be...well. Yeah."

 He hates that Stiles can affect him like this. It's like a splash of cold water. _Stiles wants to talk,_ his body says. _Get yourself together!_ "No, you can come in." Derek offers.

 "You sure?"

 "Yeah. Let me just change." Derek steps away and waits only for Stiles to cross the threshold before turning around. He brushes his teeth twice to get the stale taste out of his mouth and takes three aspirin to ward off the stiffness in his neck. He switches jeans and puts on a shirt and stares at himself for ten seconds before taking a deep breath and going back out there.

 Stiles has never looked more out of place in his apartment. Before all this, Stiles was almost a fixture. He'd never have sat on the couch like that, curled in on himself. Small. Derek hates it, hates that out of all the consequences he'd imagined, he'd never thought it would make Stiles look like this.

 "So, um...you want to..." Derek gestures vaguely.

 Stiles looks up and nods. "Yeah, I—I think we need to talk."

 Derek nods and sits on his other couch, the one Stiles himself had convinced him to get since he had the biggest place out of all of them and therefore automatically became the go-to spot. Derek clears his throat. "So, do you want...I mean how do we start?"

 "I don't know." Stiles admits. Then he shakes himself and says "I'm really pissed off at you."

 It's like a hot iron into Derek's chest. "I figured."

 "Not about watching. I mean, if I was that concerned about someone I know finding out I wouldn't post it on the internet, you know? It's about last night. You had no right to tell Nate about it."

 "I am so sorry. I would never have done that if I was thinking straight, but watching you guys just—got under my skin, and I was drunk, and—"

 "That doesn't matter." Stiles pushes. "It was seriously fucked up."

 "I agree."

 Stiles sighs, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Okay, well...that being out of the way, I feel like you should know we broke up."

 There's an odd mixture of guilt and joy that pulses through Derek. "I'm sorry."

 "No, you aren't." Stiles sighs. "And neither am I. I didn't tell you that to get an apology, I just...if we're going to get anywhere, I thought you'd need to know."

 Derek nods slowly. "Okay."

 "Okay. So, anything I need to know?"

 Derek shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. I don't think so."

 "How did you find them?" Stiles asks.

 "By accident. I was just...looking. I liked...I liked the way you looked. Before I knew it was you."

 "So I'm your type." Stiles teases a little, lip quirking up.

 "Yes." Derek admits on a weak laugh. "Yeah, very much so. And...and I didn't know until after it was over. When you, um...when you laughed."

 "Your recognized my laugh?"

 "Yeah."

 Stiles nods a little. "And you kept watching?"

 Derek's face heats up with the question. "Yes."

 "Why?"

 "I told you." Derek huffs. "I've always thought you were attractive."

 "You didn't think it was weird?"

 Derek squeezes his eyes shut. "It wasn't that, it was—I knew it was wrong, but I..."

 "But you liked it." Stiles guesses.

 "Yeah," he sighs, glancing back up at him. "I guess. It was like...I didn't have to risk anything by watching."

 "Except getting drunk and outing me." Stiles points out.

 Derek swallows thickly. "Right."

 Stiles shifts uncomfortably on the couch, fingers twisting together and apart. "I don't know how to take this," he admits at last. "I want to be flattered but...but mostly I'm humiliated."

 "Stiles, I—"

 "Don't say anything." Stiles interrupts. "I don't want you to say anything, I just want you to listen. I want you to know that—that I knew those videos weren't going to be private, but I just feel like you took advantage of me. And I know that's not fair, because if I didn't want people to watch me doing that I wouldn't put the videos up, but it's how I feel. You've seen me doing and saying things that I didn't give you consent to see, and I know it's dumb but—"

 "It's not dumb, Stiles." Derek cuts him off. "I understand. You deserve to be upset about it."

 Stiles stares at him for a long moment before saying "But I'm not just upset. That's what's so messed up about it. I..." he trails off, sighs and looks down at the floor. "Fuck, I mean—I like people watching me, a _lot,_ you know, and you're—I like you, we've always sort of—so knowing that _you_ watched and you—" He groans and stands up, beginning to pace. "I'm conflicted." he settles on.

 "Me, too." Derek says.

 "So what now? We're both screwed up and upset, but mostly because we're not _that_ upset." Stiles crosses his arms and comes to a halt across the room. "I don't know where to go from here."

 "I think we just keep talking." Derek suggests. "I mean, I'm not a relationship guru or anything, but I hear that's what works."

 Stiles smiles, just a little. "I hear that, too." Then his smile falls, replaced by hesitation. "Is that what you want, though?"

 "To keep talking to you?"

 "A relationship."

 Derek's heart thuds heavily in his chest. "I think," he says carefully. "That we're going to end up in some sort of relationship no matter what happens. We were friends before this, and we have mutual friends, so no matter which way we go, you'll always be a part of my life." He pauses for a moment, waits for Stiles to agree with a nod, and then says "And yes, that's what I want. You in my life."

 Stiles eyes go a little wide. "Yeah?"

 "Yeah."

 Stiles chews on his lip for a moment before smiling. "Okay."

***

 The screen clicks on, showing Stiles face before he pulls back. He's straddling a man's hips, fingers absently playing with the hair on his chest. There's a low hum and then Stiles is chuckling, and he starts working his hips in a slow grind.

 Derek's whole body is on fire, Stiles' fingers on his stomach now and also in the video. His brain is working in so many directions he can't decide which he wants to focus on.

 Stiles grinds hard against his ass in the same moment that on the screen Derek takes his hips and roughly pulls him under him. Stiles lips find his ear and he whispers "Want me to fuck you like you fucked me?"

 "Yeah," Derek groans, watching himself pull on Stiles' underwear until Stiles' hips give. He's already naked now, so Stiles just rolls him over and hitches his legs over his hips in the same moment that on-screen Derek does that to his Stiles. Derek cranes his neck to keep his eyes on the screen while Stiles starts prodding at his ass with his tongue.

 On screen, Derek is mouthing across Stiles' balls, face mostly obscured by Stiles' legs. Stiles is whining, his hands fisting on the comforter. Derek isn't as noisy as Stiles is, but he is already shaking while Stiles rims him, tongue teasing him to relax with soft touches and then going hard inside him.

  _Oh my god, stop._ Stiles begs on screen. The Stiles between his legs hums and pulls away to slide his tongue over Derek's cock. In the video, Derek climbs up his body and brushes kisses over his abdomen, mostly hiding his face in the process.

 "You're the worst tease," Stiles tells him now, even as he just barely touches the tip of his tongue to the head of Derek's cock. "I was so ready for you to fuck me and you refused to do it."

 Derek can hear Stiles begging from his laptop, manages a weak grin and drags his eyes over his boyfriend's current form, watches him make himself at home between his legs. "There was too much to do to rush it." Derek informs him.

 There's a loud moan from the laptop, and Derek turns to watch as he slides his fingers into Stiles, hears the quiet murmurs of reassurance as he fingers him open. He's so entranced he doesn't even notice Stiles preparing his own fingers until two of them, cold and long, are pressing into him. Derek tenses up, but Stiles shushes him, kisses his hips until Derek relaxes and opens up.

 "I love how much you love this." Stiles groans softly, watching his fingers split Derek open.

  _More, please_ , the laptop whimpers. Derek is not far behind repeating, but Stiles doesn't make him wait, instead choosing to overwhelm him with another two fingers. Derek moans, reaching up to grab at his sheets. "Shit, _Stiles_."

 "I know, I know." Stiles agrees gruffly. "I don't wanna wait, just—we're so close, baby."

 Stiles is babbling on the laptop, begging for fingers and cock and promising other filthy things. If Derek could work his neck right now he know he'd be watching himself shivering on top of Stiles, growling things the laptop mic didn't pick up into Stiles' ear.

 "Are you ready?" Stiles asks breathlessly. Derek blinks down at him dumbly for a second before nodding. Stiles climbs up his body and lines his dick up. There's a brief pause and then Stiles slides all the way home.

 Derek and the copy of Stiles both moan in tandem, though Stiles' is louder and ends in a broken whimper. His Stiles now is gritting words through his teeth, things like "Fuck you're so tight, how are you always so tight?" and "Baby, focus on me, c'mon I wanna see you."

 Derek's eyes are rolling back in his head, though, so he just pushes against Stiles and listens to his laptop spew filthy things at him. The memory of making the video, the video itself, and Stiles panting as he fucks him thoroughly makes it easy for him to get overwhelmed. He reaches up with one hand, waits for Stiles to take it and press biting kisses across his palm and wrist.

 "Baby, I'm gonna come." Stiles pants into his hand. "Let me come in you, please."

 "Yeah," Derek whines helplessly. On the laptop Stiles practically screams, and Derek feels the burning memory of his nails in his shoulders just as Stiles grabs his cock and fucks so hard into him Derek's head bounces off his pillow. He comes with one hand twisted in his sheets and the other grinding the bones in Stiles'. Stiles comes with a sob, hips stuttering, getting the last few thrusts he needs before going still inside him.

 Stiles falls on top of him, panting, and on the laptop Stiles is quiet for the first time in three minutes. Then at once they both break into giggles. Derek smiles, knows he's doing the same on screen. The video goes quiet, but his Stiles keeps humming quiet giggles into his neck until they both fall asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://www.thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/)


End file.
